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Mind Over Miller: Finding a good home for a discarded animal

During the early days of television, a basset hound named Cleo popularized that formerly exotic breed. One of my clients at that time was a recently widowed woman, who had always been an appreciative and considerate client. The widow had not been left in a financially secure position when her husband died.

The widow and her teenage daughter were strongly attached to their ailing cat, so I saw them often. One day the woman said, "Dr. Miller, we are lonesome at home with Dad gone, and Tommy is old and sick half the time, as you know, so we've been thinking about getting a dog. You must run across situations where people have to give up a dog or perhaps an injured stray is brought in. Will you let us know when you find one suitable for us? We're not in a hurry, and we'll leave the selection entirely up to you."

I readily agreed to find them a dog, and then asked what kind of dog they'd like.

They looked at each other and smiled with some embarrassment. The daughter explained, "Well, we don't expect to get the kind of dog we'd really like to have because that kind of dog is too expensive for us. We'll settle for any kind of medium-sized dog that's not too shaggy. We considered adopting one from the pound, but you know us and we'd have more confidence if you found one for us. We've never had a dog before—just cats."

"But what kind of dog was it that you shopped for?" I asked the daughter, a polite 16-year-old.

The mother answered, "She's just crazy about Cleo, that basset hound on TV. We both are! We'd give anything to own a dog like that, but of course, we don't expect you to find anything so valuable for us."

I promised to remember and to place the first appropriate homeless pup in their home.

A few weeks later, a basset breeder came in with a 4-month-old female. "I want her put to sleep," the breeder said. "Her front feet splay out badly, and I have to cull her."

I suggested that we place the pup, sans registration papers, as a pet. "I even have a home in mind," I offered. Then I told the breeder about the widow and daughter. She agreed to give me the pup, but first made me swear that I would not reveal where it came from or what its bloodline was.

After examining the puppy, immunizing it, and finding it to be sweet and gentle, I phoned the widow at work. "I have a dog for you," I told her. She was delighted and promised to come in before our office closed.

At 5:30 p.m. the lady and her daughter showed up, eyes sparkling with excitement. "I have a dog for you—a female —and I think you'll be pleased," I said with careful indifference. I was savoring the surprise I had for these nice people.

"What kind of dog is she?" asked the woman.

"How old is she?" asked the daughter.

"I've examined her, and she's fine. She's had all her vaccinations," I responded.

"How old is she?" asked the woman.

"How big is she?" asked the daughter.

"If you're not happy with her, you're free to return her," I said. "But I'm confident that you'll become very fond of her."